


The Luckiest Popsicle in the World

by AdamantSteve



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Eating, Flirting, Food, Food Porn, Gen, Oral Fixation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-06
Updated: 2013-04-06
Packaged: 2017-12-07 16:45:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/750747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdamantSteve/pseuds/AdamantSteve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve eats weird. It's hot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Luckiest Popsicle in the World

**Author's Note:**

> For the 'food porn' square of my Trope Bingo card to complete my SECOND bingo line! YAY :D  
> Beta read by Dunicha.

There’s no way Steve’s doing it on purpose, because he’s Steve goddamn Rogers. Tony would say something about the way he’s fellating a piece of asparagus if he could stop staring and think up something coherent, but he can’t, and then someone starts talking to him about oil futures and he has to tear his eyes away.

 

They’re all at a banquet stand up dinner buffet awardsy thing and Tony has stuff to do, people to be smarmed at by. But every time he catches sight of Steve he’s sucking on something or has his fingers in his mouth and it’s _distracting_. Thor’s oblivious to the downright sinful way Steve’s sucking the meat out of a crab claw and nodding at something he just said. Since when did this dinner have all this handsy food anyway? Probably Pepper. He should fire her and then rehire her at twice the salary.

 

He didn’t want it to be _too_ formal so there’s a sort of all-American theme with the Maine lobsters and crawfish cauldron thing and hotdogs which Steve thankfully hasn’t gotten around to yet. There are bottled beers from various little microbreweries that Bruce helped him pick out, one of which Steve runs the tip of his tongue around before tipping back and drinking from. 

 

Tony takes a deep breath and tries to focus on something else. Natasha’s wearing an impressively engineered dress which half the rest of the crowd are appreciating, and talking to some ambassador or something about how to eviscerate a man just using a pair of chopsticks, so that whole corner of the room is pretty fascinating, but Tony’s attention still gets drawn back to Steve doing that thing with the asparagus again. 

 

He sidles over to Clint, who’s propping up the bar sucking on his own beer, surveying the room. “Have you been showing Steve weird porn?” Tony asks, and Clint turns his lazerbeam vision on him. 

“No?” He laughs. “Do you want me to?” 

“God no.” 

Clint watches Steve, who has reached the hotdogs now, and Tony’s pretty fucking sure there were hotdogs in the 1940s, but Steve seems never to have eaten one before. Who licks the mustard and ketchup OFF of a hotdog? 

“Wow, he’s really going to town on that thing,” Clint remarks. Tony nods fervently. “Right!? What the fuck, he’s been doing that all night.” 

They both watch Steve do something weird with the hotdog which should be gross except it’s really not at _all_ and they both hear it when Tony swallows. “I need a drink,” he decides.

 

Clint wanders off to annoy Natasha and when Tony turns around, Agent Coulson is talking to Steve by the oyster thing. “Jesus Christ,” Tony mutters, walking over and then standing there not knowing what exactly he was planning to do. 

“Stark,” Phil nods at him, and Steve finishes slurping an oyster out of it’s shell before grinning at Tony. A bit of lemon juice runs down his chin and he catches it and zealously sucks his finger clean. Phil and Tony watch him do it and then stand there with slightly glazed eyes. 

 

“Enjoying the party?” Tony asks them robotically, watching with dread as Steve reaches for another oyster and the bottle of tabasco. “Oh, great food,” Steve says, and Tony wants to laugh. “What?”

Tony just shakes his head. “Glad you’re having a nice time is all.”

“Did you see the desserts?” Phil asks, and Tony wants to kill him. Steve apparently didn’t, so the three of them troop over to the whole banana split, popsicle, ice cream corner of the room to watch Steve get cream all over his face as he makes friends with them all. Special friends. Tony will never look at a banana the same way again.

 

Clint returns, grabbing a popsicle before grabbing Phil, hauling them both out to the balcony where he wants to show him something with Natasha. Phil tries to protest but then there’s a scream and the flash of a fireball outside and he goes along quietly. Always with the circus tricks, that Hawkeye. 

 

Steve licks his lips and Tony hands him a tissue. “I’m kind of a messy eater,” Steve confesses. 

“You don’t say,” replies Tony, grabbing a softscoop from a passing tray. They make their way out to the balcony where Clint is reenacting some classic fire-eater thing with Natasha in that dress of hers, but Steve’s found his own popsicle which he’s busy sucking on, the cherry red staining his lips even redder than they were before and Tony’s too busy staring at that. Steve’s oblivious to it, watching Clint swallow a burning sword or something; Tony doesn’t care. 

 

“This is a good party,” Steve says, smiling before going back to making love to the luckiest popsicle in the world. Tony pats him on the arm. 

“Glad you’re enjoying yourself, soldier.” 

“Can we go out sometime?” Steve asks out of nowhere, fire shining in his blue eyes as he looks at Tony earnestly. Tony’s struck dumb, which never happens, but Steve takes it for hesitation and starts to backtrack. 

“Yeah! Yes. Sure. I would. Yes,” Tony replies, “that would be great.” 

Steve beams at him, all white teeth and red lips. “There’s a new German sausage place that Thor told me about, I really want to check it out.”

 


End file.
